


Silence

by sereindawn



Category: In the Bleak Midwinter (Webcomic)
Genre: Angsty babies, Anya doesn't smile either but we'll get there one day, Enemies to Lovers, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Slow Burn, This took me longer to write than it should've, anya is confused, but also soft, like everyone, not really angst but not really fluff, omega doesn't know what emotions are, omega is yet to smile and this fic doesn't provide you with it, the relationship is changing though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:22:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26330341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sereindawn/pseuds/sereindawn
Summary: More often than not, theres more spoken in the stark moments of silence and empty spaces, than there are in the closest and loudest ones.
Relationships: Anya/Omega, Omega/Anya
Comments: 18
Kudos: 66





	Silence

Anya could barely breathe. It felt as if she’d been running for hours, feet clobbering the earth like a battle drum in blind determination — she realised now that it was likely to have been only minutes. She’d managed to locate a half demolished shack to reside in not long ago, curling herself in between the cold stone and crumbling concrete in the hopes of being able to sink through its structure. It felt very much like she was suffocating.

Within the silence, tainted by the roaring, frigid winds and acrid taste of chemicals, she could hear the distant sounds of footsteps, like the marching of soldier’s into battle. The androids should not find her here, or at least she hoped as much. It was inevitable that they would if she lingered too long, but Anya had no intention of outstaying her welcome, not with the way death was constantly on her heels like a shadow.

And today was no day for her to appease its cruel demands. See, death had started to become a bit of an inconvenience. Although at first it had been terrifying, leaving her in a cold, gasping sweat in the nights that followed, by now, after so many incidents, she was starting to get… _irritated_. She’d been bested by it one too many times, and she had grown tired of being on the losing side. At the very least it was too much of a setback to die right now, she’d have no way of getting back to the others if she lost any more time.

The androids had infiltrated their district, and an explosion in the tunnels during their evacuation, one so loud it had left her ears ringing and her head splitting, had divided her from the group. A tactic which was no doubt put in place to do exactly that, as it had become clear by now that she was still very much the androids object of desire.

She, and she alone had been forced to resurface out into the open, isolated and disorientated, she was soon faced with rows upon rows of androids, red eyes piercing through her body like hot, twisting blades. Anya hadn't hesitated; she'd bolted almost instantly, feeling like a rat in an unsolvable maze as she twisted and turned through alleys and streets in the vain hope that she could lose her pursuers. It had been a risky and obviously carefully planned strategy on the androids part, one which she considered the possibility of Alexei deciding to use on them in the future. She grimaced, hoping that at the very least their focus on her would minimise human causalities.

Her breath came out in short sharp puffs, ice crystals forming like smoke from her lips and drifting into the indigo haze.

There were androids patrolling the edges of the building, she could sense them now, feel them like tiny earthquakes through the old wooden floors. Perhaps she had less time than she’d thought. There was no one who would come to help her, she was completely alone. Not one hour ago she was sat with Luka and Ivan in the food hall, discussing the new stock of clothing that had been salvaged by one of the teams — Luka had promised to get himself the softest and warmest sweater there was, even if he had fight his way for it. Her heart clenched painfully; she hoped they were both alive. Anya shook her head. She couldn’t afford to think that way, not when she had her own life to consider. When she got back to their new camp, maybe Anya would be able to shove her triumph in Irina’s face, use it to prove that she was just as competent as she presented herself to be. It would be nice to see Alexei’s second in command splutter.

An android had stopped near one of the broken windows that she was concealed from. She could hear it. Anya was sure it was peering inside, scouting the place out with a hawk like stare and sharp, jittering turns of its head. She froze, not daring to move the strand of hair that was poking eye. It felt like the seconds had been stretched and pulled, taut and painful they stung and ached beyond what was reasonable, torturing her slowly with each tick of their old clock hand. _Don’t make a single noise. Don’t breathe_. She didn’t. There was a crunch of snow, followed by the drifting murmur of its motor as it left, leaving behind a brief promise of safety. She mouthed her silent relief, heart hammering wildly inside her ears.

There must’ve been hundreds of them out there, each and every one scouring the city like vermin, tenacious and unforgiving. Not for the first time, she wondered just how human they really were. She wondered if they felt pain or remorse, if they felt love or grief. Did they cry when one of their kind died? Did they seek vengeance for all that they had lost? A pair of black eyes and silver eyelashes flickered involuntarily into her mind like the flutter of a butterfly’s wing.

She thought for a moment that she’d seen Omega in the chaos above ground, a blur of pale hair and grey clothing. The idea alone made her stomach lurch uncomfortably, she didn’t want to face him yet, there was too little she understood, too much she couldn’t comprehend. And yet even now she couldn’t stop her little finger from reaching out and tracing the small numbers beneath her sleeve.

It was still. Silent. Like sound itself has succumbed to the winds and drowned in its bitter cold. It felt wrong to disrupt it.

Then, quite suddenly, there was a soft rustle of fabric, a dark shape in her peripheral, and a resounding click of a safety catch.

Anya inhaled audibly, head snapping to the doorway.

He was staring at her, barely one foot within the room, fingers still brushing the splintered doorframe, and yet his glowing eyes had found her own like a panther would its prey; calculating and fierce.

She immediately cocked her own handgun directly at his sternum — she felt the irrefutable pang of déjà vu low in the pit of her gut. Only this time it was far more dangerous: one echoing gunshot and she’d have an entire swarm of androids on top of her within moments, a gunshot which may not even reach its target — no doubt the Grey Wolf had learnt his lesson.

But she felt safer with it pointed at him, as without it she had very little else but her own stale words and empty promises of soulmate marks. She refused to be as naive as she had been the first time, there would be no negotiations, no second thoughts. Although even as she promised herself that, she could feel the creeping doubt mocking her with cold, cruel eyes. A deep, harsh voice which she recognised all too well battered the inside of her skull: _weak_. But either way it seemed as though her time had run out, because she had been _found,_ and there was very little she could do to escape Omega a second time, not with his metal army following so closely behind like vultures.

It would not be difficult for him to kill her, he overpowered her in both strength and experience and would easily be able to shoot her in the head as he had done so the first time they had met. She internally cringed at the thought of him hauling her dead and bloody body back across no mans land.

There was no telling what she would wake up to, for the androids intentions with her had never been clear, although they had never been so opaque as to mislead her into believing it was anything good. There was also no promise that anyone would be sent to retrieve her, she was of very little use to Alexei with so few hours of field time and so few talents to her name. She was far more of a liability than an asset, and she was not worth the lives that would no doubt be lost in a mission to save her.

If she didn’t escape now, then she wouldn’t be provided with another chance. But her options were frustratingly limited: she could shoot him, and assuming she didn’t miss then she could lose the rest of the androids in the blizzard, that or she could run and hope he didn’t catch her. The former seemed most preferable, although it was not a feat which she was sure she’d be able to pull off.

But Omega had drawn closer, now directly in front of her she knew she had very little choice. She steadied her hands like Ivan had taught her to do, inhaling with the thrum of the cold metal as she skimmed the trigger, settling her mind, her nerves, her fear. 

_Relax,_ she thought, mind traveling back to the rusty cans that had been set up as target practice, _keep your eyes level and your arms strong - an impenetrable armour_. A surge of hot courage was simmering quietly beneath her skin, teasing her veins like burning liquor, and she suddenly felt a stronger distaste for death than she’d ever felt before, an overwhelming determination to make this out alive.

And yet as she fixed her aim, steadier than she’d ever been before, she watched him do the opposite. Anya blinked.

Omega’s hand had lowered, gun slipped neatly into its holder and disappearing from view behind his coat. Her breath hitched. _What was he doing?_ Perhaps a different tactic? An order for her to be brought in unharmed? There was no logic in a move like that, no benefit to her welfare being considered. It made no sense.

His expression was impassive, stoic and still. There were times, that if it weren’t for the rustle of his hair or the flare of his eyes, that she would’ve thought he was made of ice, that if you reached out and touched him it would be like stone, cold to the touch and smooth, able to be chipped away into sharp, white shards of glass. Even his movements were always so precise and calculated, so steady, like water dripping down rocks.

Then, as he removed his gloved hand from beneath the shield of his coat, his eyes began to fade from an electrifying turquoise, all harsh signal flares and lonely city lights, to a deep, penetrating black, warm against his pale eyelashes and pink lips. Anya visibly started. She supposed it was because he had no need for the extra ability, he’d already found his target - it would be a waste. And yet, there was nothing threatening about the way he looked at her, although then again, to say there was anything approachable about it would be a lie. It was indifferent almost, as though he was looking at an old cobweb that no one had really bothered to clean out.

Anya stared back, willing him to show his intentions, even just a twitch of his hand, a creak of a leather glove. The tip of her gun was still pointed squarely at his head. One quick shot and she could run, look for Alexei and the rest of the group, hope that she hadn’t lost them completely. One clean bullet straight between the eyes. Her accuracy may prevent her from a shot such as that, but she knew she wouldn’t miss his head, she was sure of that now. She could feel it in the steadiness of her muscles, the sudden calm with each slow inhale and exhale of her lungs. One shot, and she could have a chance to survive.

So why couldn’t she take it?

He was unarmed, the perfect stationary target, as though he’d sprung up from the ground specially for her to practice with. _It would be so easy_ , she thought, her finger caressing the trigger. And she’d done it before, she’d been faced with this ultimatum not two months ago and even now she knew she’d done the right thing, repeating the actions now would make little difference.

Omega’s gaze was unyielding, but there was something about it which felt softer, more forgiving. With his skin illuminated in the soft silvery tones of dusk and snow, cheeks tinged red with the harsh crack of the wind, white hair kissing his forehead and cheeks like the gentle touch of a loved one, he looked like anything but the cold cut marble he always appeared to be. Anya was reminded of when she’d look up at the stars as a child, wondering if her soulmate was doing the same as her, tracing the glowing motes of light with her finger like she was matching up jigsaw puzzle, moonlight illuminating the earth below her feet in hues of velvet blue. Her chest swelled and fell all at the same time at the thought. She craved that same blissful oblivion that she had taken for granted back then like she did oxygen.

Then as he raised his hands slowly, empty of weapons or threats, Anya realised she felt unnervingly safe; suddenly and unexplainably _certain_ that she was not going to die today. She couldn’t understand what she was seeing. For a short and fleeting moment, part of her wondered if he was surrendering, repenting for his crimes, but it was hardly dwelled upon — that wasn’t in his nature. But no matter how much Anya could barely think on it, she couldn’t help but see it as an act of solidarity, a peace offering of sorts.

The gun in her hand wavered.

As her finger began to slip away from the trigger, a sudden clank of metal, a whir of circuits, sent it straight back, spiking a surge of pounding fear straight through her body. An unintentional gasp let loose from her mouth.

There was silence. Omega was no longer focused on her, his eyes no longer dark, and his body rigid once again. She looked at him, the instinct to run drowning her senses like thick, black tar.

His gaze flicked back to her own, and as they watched each other, waiting, listening, he brought a finger up and pressed it lightly to his lips.

Anya could hardly process what was happening.

A beat passed, and then another, and she couldn’t stop the way her chest clenched and constricted as though it was being strangled by chains. She clamped her hand over her mouth, afraid that the drum of her heartbeat itself was too loud. Omega inclined his head to her in what she assumed was approval of the action, and then with his free hand, slowly removed his gun from its holster once more.

A split second of panic flooded Anya. Had she misjudged this entire interaction completely? She bit down on her finger to stop a noise of alarm from escaping her mouth as he took a step towards her, cat like and silent.

And then he was gone. Slipping quietly away behind the wall that was keeping her safe and hidden, eyes not once leaving her own until they had disappeared from sight. She could barely breathe. She was alive — he had let her go. The hand which clutched her handgun like an anchor had long since fallen to her side, and it shook violently with adrenaline. Anya clenched her teeth together, frustrated with her own incompetence. She couldn’t move.

Then there was a voice, dark and low, like the smooth drip of molten sugar, it said: “she’s not here, the building is empty.”

Another voice, which was unnatural and harsh, replied, “you are certain, sir?”

“I do not wish to have to repeat myself,” came the quick retort, laced with barely discernible impatience, “search elsewhere, I want her back alive.”

There was the hum of an engine, the soft sound that Anya was so familiar with, and then there was silence once more.

It was another minute or so before she was certain that she was alone in the building. Anya clutched her jacket tightly, desperate to feel some sort of comfort. She felt like she was choking, gaping for air with none to be found. All she could see was him, finger pressed to lips, eyes fixed on her own, shadows harsh and cut across his face like obsidian. Her head pounded. Dizzy and overwhelmed, she half leaned, half stumbled against the wall behind her for support.

He had let her go willingly, had aided her and kept her secret. The thought alone made her feel as though she had been shot through the chest with lighting, and she clutched the gun tightly, still reeling.

There wasn’t enough time for her to think on it, she couldn’t afford to sit by and shake, grow stiff with cold and fear. She had to move, or else there would be little chance for her to make it back alive. But there was something holding her there, tugging her back like a chafing noose. She could’ve sworn she felt the numbers on her wrist tickle her skin.

Three more minutes, she thought, three more minutes, and she would take her opportunity by the scruff of the neck and _run_.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this fandom is seriously missing fanfics, like I don't actually know if there even are any?? lmao whAT??? So here I am, starting off the long line of itbmw fanfics to come (and yes that is a threat, I'm gonna bust down your door if you don't contribute). I would've fleshed out the ending more but I didn't have the inspiration to do so lmao, I actually don't even know what this is but I enjoyed writing it and I plan to hopefully write more in the future. Kudos and comments are appreciated! :)


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